


Organic chemistry sucks

by just_j



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Just a bit of a slow burn, Not a full blown one though, Reader-Insert, Smut, Studying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 15:04:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17024871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_j/pseuds/just_j
Summary: Iwaizumi can’t stop thinking about you after he meets you at the University library and is stunned when you offer to study with him for organic chemistry. After you help him ace is second exam, he invites you to a party and your celebration together quickly turns into something both of you have been wanting.





	Organic chemistry sucks

**Author's Note:**

> i got a little carried away lol i had too much fun writing this.

Oikawa wouldn’t stop texting him since the year started; it seemed like he was trying to close the distance between them by telling him every single detail about his entire day— _every single day_. Even when Iwaizumi would go MIA and put him on do not disturb, when he checked his messages at the end of the night he’d find a whole pile of them waiting for him. He guessed after being together constantly for so many years, this was Oikawa’s way of dealing with the sudden change.

He groaned at the sensation of his phone vibrating again as he entered the library; no doubt Oikawa complaining that he hadn’t responded in a couple hours. After his first exams hadn’t gone so well and he complained to someone that he had nowhere to study, they had mentioned to him the library was a great place to go and he decided to give it a shot. He vaguely heard someone greet him upon entering, but his mind was already focusing on trying to get into the zone for a long night of studying.

After a few hours, his brain was mush. How could anyone possibly memorize the products of all these different kinds of chemical reactions? Everything just looked like lines and letters to him; when was he ever going to use organic chemistry in his everyday life? He hoped never again. He took a moment to stretch in his chair and realized it was close to midnight. He should probably head back to his dorm, especially since he had early morning practice tomorrow.

He noticed you this time on his way out when you said, “Have a good night!” He looked up realizing someone _had_ greeted him on his way in a few hours ago. He almost apologized for ignoring you, but it didn’t seem like you were really looking for a response from him. So, he just stepped out into the cool night and headed home.

He went to the library multiple times that week and more often than not—you were working. You always politely said hello and goodbye to him as your job as the front desk worker required but he’d find himself going up to the desk for no reason; needing scissors, a piece of paper, tape. Wanting to have an excuse to make small talk with you. He knew you walked around the library every hour with a clipboard counting the number of people and he’d have to brace himself for it; doing his best not to stare when you weren’t looking. Once he even sat on the main floor in a spot where he could discretely watch you and found it fascinating how you could shift from doing your job to your homework like a machine. It had been a poor decision to do that; he’d gotten zero studying done.

You noticed him too. He started coming rather frequently to the library and you liked to note who the regulars were. He always entered with the sourest expression, gearing up for whatever he was studying that night; it almost made you laugh every time. When you’d make your rounds, he’d be hunched over his table with laser focus on the notes in front of him; it was impressive. It helped that he was cute too, and not just cute but— _hot_. What made it even worse was that he paraded around completely oblivious to it. Whenever he’d come up to the desk to ask for something you thought he’d for sure notice you ogling the defined muscle of his arms. Did he have to wear t-shirts that fit perfectly around his bicep?

One night, while you were walking around, you noticed he was looking particularly stressed. He had his fingers tangled in his hair with his face scrunched up in confusion at the whiteboard in front of him. You’d exchanged many small conversations, it wouldn’t be weird to approach him—right?

He was surprised to see you peek around his whiteboard with your clipboard in hand; had it already been an hour since you last came around? “You’ve been in here practically every night for a week, what could you possibly be studying for?” You asked.

All he could do was stare for a moment in disbelief that you had initiated the conversation with him this time. You waited patiently for his response, nerves knotting up in your stomach; maybe it was weird to talk to him out of the blue. Your nerves dissipated when he groaned and motioned casually to the whiteboard, “O-chem.”

You laughed. “It’s the worst, isn’t it?”

“It turns my brain inside out.”

Again, you laughed; the sound making his miserable night just slightly better. “We just had a test! You’re already studying for the next one?”

He ran a hand through his dark hair and you struggled to not look at the muscles shifting in his arm as he said, “I ate shit on the last one so I’m trying to be proactive.”

“We could study together sometime if you wanted,” you said sincerely. It wasn’t until he fully stared at you did you realize how _weird_ of an offer that was; you didn’t even know each other’s names! Color bloomed on your cheeks and you tried to regain yourself, “Because two heads are better than one! And…I…I’m not horrible at O-chem so maybe I could help you out.”

It was cute how embarrassed you were about it. He was actually delighted that you had extended such an offer since he himself had been coming up with his own excuses to talk to you. “That would be great, actually. My roommate is no help at all.” He watched as you relaxed; a smile lighting up your face. You were glad he wasn’t turned off by the idea.

“Well, I’m sure I’ll see you around the library, we can figure something out. I should probably get back to work now…” you started to leave but abruptly returned to add, “I’m (Y/N), by the way.”

“Iwaizumi Hajime.” You bid him goodbye again, and to his dismay; someone else was at the front desk when he left later that night.

* * *

 

He didn’t notice you were in his class until the next day when you walked in late. It was bad enough getting distracted by you in the library but now he found himself zoning out during class while looking at you. Watching you was addicting—the way your lips pressed into a firm line when you didn’t understand something or how they curved into a stifled smile at whatever the person next to you whispered in your ear. Class ended before he knew it and he hadn’t learned a damn thing. He should probably take advantage of your offer as soon as possible; judging from the way you focused in class he guessed you were better at O-chem than you’d let on.

So, he steeled his courage and headed over to you. He could feel the gaze of his teammates whom he’d been sitting with bore into his back; clearly interested in what he was doing. When he approached, you looked up at him through your eyelashes and he had to suck in a breath to keep his composure. With a warm smile, you said, “Hey Iwaizumi. What’s up?”

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I think I need to take you up on your offer from last night. I barely understood anything today.”

You stood, and he noticed you would be the perfect height to fit in his embrace; the image of it passing through his head before he could stop it. “I don’t have to work tonight; meet in the library at 7?” He nodded, and you took your leave attempting to calm your racing heart. When you’d spotted him coming over to you, you’d had to mentally prepare yourself. How the hell were you going to hold yourself together for several hours around him tonight?

* * *

 

It had gone surprisingly well. He was a very attentive pupil to tutor, seemingly drinking every word you said while trying to teach him. You kept apologizing with, ‘I’m sorry if that doesn’t make sense’ and ‘Am I even helping?’ which made him want to shake you by the shoulders and tell you _everything_ you were saying was making sense. He actually felt like things were clicking and he wasn’t just staring at his notes. You forced him to do practice problems, claiming that if he just kept repeating it; it would eventually stick.

He started to see that you were right. Even after just a few days of studying together, class was starting to make sense. He didn’t feel like the professor was speaking a different language anymore. But now he was having a different problem—you. One night when you rolled your chair up next to him to check one of his answers and plucked his pencil from his hand; your delicate fingers brushing against his rough, calloused ones and your proximity almost made him combust.

Another night, you threw a crumpled-up piece of paper at his forehead with a smirk gracing your lips. Carefully, he uncrumpled the paper to see you had written him a note:

_You’re making the same mistake again_

He glanced down at his paper and realized he’d put the electrons on the wrong element— _again_.

He wrote a response and threw the paper back, frowning. You burst out laughing when you saw he wrote:

_Fuck off._

It earned him the lovely sight of you sticking your tongue out at him.

You’d started hanging out together outside of studying too. Going to lunch after chemistry, getting dinner, walking to class, texting each other constantly; you simply enjoyed each other’s company. You asked him about volleyball and promised to attend one of his games once the season started. He talked about his high school volleyball career and was pleasantly surprised to discover you knew a thing or two about the sport; even asking him was position he was. His teammates had started teasing him about you, begging him to bring you to the parties the Captains threw every weekend; to which he kept refusing. He wasn’t ready for their obnoxious suggestive behavior and certainly didn’t want to subject you to it either.

Despite being rather comfortable around each other—there was still an unmistakable tension between you and him. You weren’t oblivious to his stares, or the way he got flustered whenever you got too close. As much as you tried to hide your own interest, he had to be noticing you checking him out in return. It was impossible not to gawk when he’d show up to study after working out; the muscles in his arms shifting with every movement or the way his gym shorts made his butt look was utterly intoxicating. But you reined it in, too afraid that you were interpreting him wrong and not wanting to ruin the friendship that had grown between you two.

Before he knew it, the second exam and come and gone in the blink of an eye; and he actually did well on it—all thanks to you. He’d excitedly texted you the second he got his score, profusely thanking you, and making it clear their studying routine was not changing. You were equally happy for him; he’d worked extremely hard for that grade.

The Captains were throwing a huge party that weekend for no particular reason and he thought it would be a good one to invite you to since practically the entire campus was invited anyways. His finger hovered over the send button for a moment before he mustered the courage to send his message; fearful of how you would interpret it.

_Sent – 13:06  
You’ve probably already heard but the volleyball team is having a party tonight at the Captains’ house if you want to come. _

_Received – 13:13  
My roommate and I were going to go! We definitely need to celebrate your 92 on the exam!!_

He grinned like an idiot at that.

* * *

 

A lot of people had shown up. Even students from surrounding universities were here and he distantly wondered if Oikawa was going to pop out of the crowd at any given moment. He hadn’t seen you yet; the worry that you’d decided not to come gripping his heart. His nerves grew as time passed but settled the moment he heard your voice call out over the music. “Iwaizumi!”

You were wading your way through the crowd towards him and threw your arms around his neck once you were close enough. You hugged him tightly, overwhelmed with excitement at his score on the test. “A 92!!” You exclaimed when you broke the hug. “That’s amazing!”

He laughed sheepishly. “It’s only because of your help.”

“Oh stop—your dedication is nothing to ignore.” He was glad for the dim lights; otherwise you’d see the blush creeping along his neck. “You look like you’re having no fun,” you gave him a once over. You’re right—he wasn’t before you got here. Taking his hand, you dragged him from the wall towards the large group of people dancing to the music in the other room. You felt him pull against your arm in resistance. “Come on,” you urged. “I’ll be there the whole time.” He gave in and let you lead him to the middle of the dance floor. Nobody around you seemed to mind giving you and Iwaizumi a bit of room.

You noticed he was stiff as a board in the throng of bodies dancing around him; clearly unsure what to do now that he was here. Boldly, you took his hands and placed them on your hips, encouraging him to sway along with you. He swallowed thickly. No way was he going to be able to resist you. Not with your body so close to his, the way your hips felt against his hands, or the fact your attention was solely on him. Nothing else seemed to matter as he held your gaze—completely entranced by your body pressing against his chest as you linked your arms around his neck.

His eyes flicked down to your lips and your heart rate spiked at what he seemed to be contemplating.

 _Just do it_ , you thought.

Your surroundings fell away as he pressed his forehead against yours, your breath mingling together. You leaned into his touch and finally—ever so softly he pressed his warm lips to yours shooting fireworks off in your brain. It was wonderful and slow, like he’d thought about how he’d kiss you before. Your body ached to know how his hands would feel elsewhere besides your hips.

It wasn’t enough. You’d leaned into him so quickly and laced your fingers slightly into his hair tugging him closer—it made him want to taste the rest of you. You seemed to want the same when you broke away from each other and looked at him with eyes gleaming. Wordlessly, he took your hand and headed for the exit. It was weird that the short drive back to campus wasn’t awkward. You just held his hand as he drove and subconsciously rubbed yours with his thumb.

Neither of you were drunk; he knew he wasn’t, and he hadn’t tasted any on your lips which made him all the more exhilarated. He was damn lucky his roommate had gone home for the weekend or this wouldn’t be happening at all.

When the door to his dorm shut—he was upon you immediately. Pinning you against the wall, his lips finding yours quickly and arms around your waist sliding up the back of your shirt. He rumbled with pleasure as your cool fingers tangled into his hair and you slipped your tongue into his mouth. He opened it to give you more access and murmured, “Fuck…” when you lightly bit his bottom lip. He hoisted your legs around him and pressed himself even harder against you—his growing erection pressing against his jeans.

He walked you over to the futon; legs still around his waist and fingers in his hair. Sitting down so you could straddle him, you tugged at the hem of his shirt and he was quick to discard it. You marveled over the muscles shifting in his chest as he did so—heat pooling in your stomach. Oh, this boy was lighting you on fire and you never wanted to burn out. It was like he never wanted to stop touching you, his hands sliding up the back of your shirt again as you cupped his face and kissed him. His calloused fingers tracing down your spine sent goosebumps traveling along your arms.

He wasn’t even sure if what was happening right now was real or if he _was_ drunk and this was his imagination playing dirty tricks on him. He helped you out of your shirt and couldn’t help himself—letting his hands explore every inch of your newly exposed skin; his lips quick to follow. A soft moan escaped you as he traveled down your jaw and grazed your collarbone. You felt what it did to him underneath you, letting yourself sit harder against his cock elicited a deep moan from him that he tried to stifle against your skin. He wanted you; wanted to hear his name like a plea from your lips as he pleasured you into oblivion.

He took you over to his bed and laid you beneath him, showering kisses down your chest until he reached your legs and pressed a hesitant kiss at the apex of your thighs. You wanted to tell him to keep going so you took his hands and placed them at the button of your jeans. He caught your gaze and held it as he slipped your pants off causing you to cover your face in embarrassment.

 _How is this even reality?_ He thought as he drank in the sight of you lying in his bed in nothing but your bra and underwear. You sucked in a breath as he lifted your legs over his shoulders and proceeded to kiss your inner thighs; creeping closer to your core that was already slick at the sight of him between your legs. You wanted him to do more than just _tease_.

“Hajime…” you said needier than you would have liked—his first name falling from your lips on accident.

That set him aflame. He would do whatever you wanted as long as you kept saying his name like that. He obliged, pulling your underwear aside and licking your core; his tongue flicking across your clit causing you to gasp aloud and your hips to buck. He settled his hands on your hips and pressed down keeping you grounded on the bed practically sending you into overdrive as he continued to lick and suck. The sensation of him humming pleasantly between your legs was almost too much; and every time you felt your thighs start to shudder and you were toeing the edge—he’d slow to an agonizingly unhurried pace that kept you moaning and pleading his name.

When he finally let you cum, it was like you were shattering into tiny pieces finally granted the release you craved. Your nails dug into his biceps as you came, and he kept his hands on your hips to prevent you from riding out the pleasure and making you feel the full force of your orgasm. It was beautiful watching you arch your back and tilt your head letting out an unbelievably arousing moan.

The pressure against his jeans was getting bothersome and you noticed that his bulge was considerably larger than before. It was easy; tugging at the waistband of his pants he got the cue and stood up to remove them—taking his boxers off with them. He hesitated for a moment as he positioned himself before you, realizing this was farther than he ever imagined getting with you and knowing neither of you could return from this point once you’d passed it.

You took his face into your hands, kissing him deeply and sincerely. “I want you,” you whispered.

He moved a bit closer and rubbed the tip of his cock along your clit. “Where?” He growled.

“Inside me.” His last thread of self-control snapped, and he sheathed himself fully into you accompanied by a groan from the back of his throat. Once he was fully inside you, he pumped slowly letting you adjust to his length before increasing his pace.

You moaned right along with him—in his mouth, against his neck; gripping the glorious muscles of his back and arms, the bedsheets; any purchase you could find to ground yourself. There was nothing on your mind but _him_. His ragged breath mixing with yours, stolen and breathless kisses; your voice saying his name over and over again like he asked. He was magnificent as he shuddered above you when his orgasm wracked his body that was slick with sweat.

You kissed his mouth, his cheeks, his jaw as he came down from the high. He melted into the space next to you, pressing a kiss to your temple before letting his body go completely slack from exhaustion. He pulled your body against his; his warm breath tickling your neck as he said, “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

A smile rose to your lips. “Goodnight, Hajime.” He nuzzled closer at the sound of his name. It was easy to fall asleep in his arms.

In the morning, you half-expected to wake up in your own room; everything about last night being too good to be true. But when you rolled your head and found him sleeping peacefully next to you—a giggle bubbled up from your throat accidentally waking him up.

You let him ravish you all morning.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr @haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles


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